The Perfect Lie

Seraphine met Kaelith's gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she let out a breath—soft, shaken.

"You don't trust me," she whispered.

Kaelith's grip on his dagger tightened. "Should I?"

Her shoulders rose and fell with a quiet sigh. "I came here alone, leaving everything behind. My family. My home. And yet, every time I move, you watch me like an enemy."

Kaelith studied her carefully. No anger. No defensiveness. Only hurt.

Too perfect.

Seraphine took a slow step forward, reaching for his hand. "That man was an old ally of my father's. He wanted to warn me. Nothing more."

Kaelith did not move. "Warn you about what?"

She hesitated—just long enough to seem vulnerable. "The war. The dangers I might face as your wife."

A clever answer. One that was technically true—but not the whole truth.

Kaelith wanted to believe her. Wanted to look into her eyes and see only honesty.

But something in his gut told him—Seraphine was still lying.

Not fully. Not yet.

But enough to keep her secret safe.

For now.